


les yeux noirs

by orphan_account



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Choking, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, this is filth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:34:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22362664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: How would you kill me?Eve and Villanelle have an interesting conversation.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 8
Kudos: 212





	les yeux noirs

**Author's Note:**

> lesbians rise up

“ _ How would you kill me, if you could?”  _

They’re alone, mostly quiet, mostly not touching. 

“I  _ could  _ kill you,” came Villanelle’s eventual, pensive answer. “If I wanted to.” 

“If you wanted to.” Sometimes, Villanelle’s eyes could be so deep and empty. She was particularly good at giving this look that made you want to stop everything just to stare back; you didn’t know if she was angry at you, or happy, or if she’d just received the most world-shattering news. Nothing. Empty. 

Eve reached for her. She was mostly good at the mostly not touching thing. Now wasn’t one of those days; Villanelle’s eyes were practically swimming and she wanted to touch her, to feel if she was as warm as Eve imagined her. 

“I thought you’d know the answer by now.”

“I have thought about it,” said Villanelle, “but there are many ways to kill a person, you know? I wouldn’t go with drowning, always takes too long. No-” she pressed the pad of her thumb tentatively to Eve’s bottom lip. “I’d want it to be personal. I’d want to watch your face as it happened.” 

Eve swallowed. She couldn’t move. “So you’d stab me?” 

Villanelle cocked her head to the side. “That is a good idea. Yes, I could stab you, perhaps right here.” She drew a line from the corner of Eve’s mouth to just above her heart; Eve could feel her nail digging into her skin, even through her sweater. 

Eve grabbed her wrist, worried that Villanelle’s hand would become a blade; that it would cut straight through skin and bone and sinew to grasp at her still beating heart. 

Villanelle slipped her wrist from Eve’s grasp. “I could also choke you.” She pressed fingers to Eve’s neck, feeling her wild pulse. Eve closed her eyes and tilted her head. If Villanelle was going to kill her, she might as well make it easy. 

Fingers were replaced with gentle lips.

“If I wanted to.” 

Villanelle’s hands had wandered to the hem of Eve’s sweater, and she tugged, impatient. Eve gave in, letting Villanelle pull it over her head and toss it somewhere behind the sofa. Eve shivered, though whether it was because of delight, fear, or anticipation she couldn’t say. Perhaps a sick mix of all three. 

Eve didn’t cover herself up, not anymore. She’s used to the intensity of Villanelle’s gaze, the soft, wandering touches. She’s used to it, but it doesn’t mean that her cheeks don’t turn red, or that she sometimes didn’t find it a bit…  _ much _ . 

Villanelle kissed Eve’s sternum, between her breasts. She kissed her shoulders, the arch of her neck, nipping gently at her jaw and the lobe of her ear. It’s been a while since she’s left a mark. Eve kind of wants her to leave a mark. 

It’s easy, with Villanelle, kissing and being kissed; touching and being touched. Eve lets it happen, for a long time ago she found it was like the tide or the rising of the sun in the morning: impossible to stop. So she might as well go with it. She might as well roll her hips and ask for more because she was an unstoppable force on a crash course towards the immovable object that was Villanelle. 

The intense need in Eve’s gut flared. Suddenly, everything was too slow, not enough. She pushed Villanelle off her and straddled her, any potential embarrassment long gone.

“You’re too slow,” she said, and Villanelle grinned up at her. Eve dragged Villanelle’s shirt off, pressed herself close. She wanted to feel her, skin against skin, and the heat that radiated from her. Villanelle pulled on Eve’s hair and dragged her mouth to hers, all tongue and teeth and  _ want want want. _

Villanelle shoved her off suddenly, mid-kiss. Eve went tumbling to the ground, all the breath punched out of her lungs by the unexpected impact. Villanelle was on her before she could fully register what was going on, tugging her jeans and underwear off, tossing them behind her. She settled between Eve’s legs, looking and looking until Eve tried to close her legs but found it impossible with her there. 

With two fingers, Villanelle spread Eve open. She was so fucking wet Eve could practically hear the slick noises coming from her. Villanelle said, “If I could kill you like this, that is how I would do it.” 

Eve gasped when Villanelle’s mouth first came in contact with her. It was cold, then burning hot, then exhilarating and too much all at once; a neat little package bundled up and dropped on Eve’s chest. She was breathless. 

Villanelle worked her like magic. She had become quite good at it, and knew when to flick her tongue against Eve’s clit like she was worshipping it, knew how to crook her fingers inside her just right, how to make her cry out and squeeze her head with her thighs when she could barely stand it anymore.

Eve propped herself up on her elbows to watch her work. Villanelle’s mouth on her, the fine line of spit that connected her bottom lip to Eve when she pulled away to look and admire and run her fingers over the wetness there. 

Eve had thought of how she would kill Villanelle, too. No drowning- too slow, too painful leading up to the act, before the warmth and the need to let go consumed you. No stabbing- too much blood, though Eve wondered with delicious wickedness what her face would look like; shocked, pained, infuriatingly proud. There was something inexplicably sexual about entering her body with a sharp blade, twisting it to hear her scream. 

“I’d poison you,” gasped Eve, when Villanelle slipped her tongue particularly deep inside her. “In your drink, or your food. You wouldn’t ever see it coming, and I’d hold you as you died.” She rolled her hips against Villanelle’s mouth, so fucking close, fingers tangled in her hair to keep her there, at the same steady pace. No more teasing. 

Heat rushed through Eve, burning and intense like she’d just swallowed burning coals. She pulled Villanelle’s hair harder than intended as she came, back arching, thighs shaking. It was so intense she blacked out, thinking for a second, caught in the midst of it, that Villanelle had actually managed to kill her via orgasm. 

The bottom half of Villanelle’s face, when she pulled away, was slick with Eve’s come. She licked as much as she could, sucked it from her fingers. She was ravenous.

Eve could taste herself when she caught Villanelle’s mouth. She wanted her naked, wanted to be inside her, and taste her and watch her face as she came. Eve flipped them over so she was hovering above Villanelle, pressing her into the carpet. She was dizzy with want, considerably annoyed at the denim that stood between them and that she couldn’t quite get off because of her reluctance to part from Villanelle, even for just a second. 

“What poison would you use?”

“What?” Eve stopped, button half popped. She stared at Villanelle quizzically, then leaned down to suck a nipple into her mouth. Villanelle squirmed under her.

“I asked what poison you would use. To kill me?” Eve finally managed to get her pants off, and Villanelle spread her legs for her shamelessly, reaching one hand down to touch herself because she was too damn impatient. “Deadly nightshade?  _ Atropa belladonna.”  _ Eve watched her mouth as she said the latin name- such a simple thing should not be so sinful or enticing. She kissed Villanelle again, thought she could taste the words. “I hear the berries are sweet. You could feed it to me from your own hand.” 

Eve grabbed her hips, rolled her over, Villanelle’s face pressed into the carpet, ass in the air. Eve pressed a kiss on each cheek before biting the tender skin, hoping to leave a mark.

“Or hemlock.  _ Conium maculatum.  _ It’s the oxygen deprivation that kills you, though nothing could take my breath away like you do.” She looked at Eve over her shoulder, grinning madly. This was her defense mechanism, when she was desperate. Eve could see right through the facade, to that fiery place behind her eyes. If it was up to her they would have already fucked all over the apartment, but Eve’s the one in control now, and she’s already had her orgasm; she’s sated, and could take all the time she wanted with Villanelle. 

Eve admired her, open and vulnerable and wet. She was so wet and eager for it that Eve’s finger sunk right inside her, easy as breathing.

“ _ Oh _ .” Villanelle arched her back, fingers digging into the fibers of the carpet. 

Eve pressed a fluttering kiss to Villanelle’s asshole. It was wholly unexpected, made Villanelle yelp and attempt to move away before pressing back harder. “Actually, I think I’ll just choke you.” 

Villanelle laughed breathlessly, the sound tapering off to a deep moan when Eve latched her mouth to her asshole, two fingers working inside of her cunt and it was… it was  _ a lot. _ It was deliciously vile and filthy. Eve could swallow her up, then and there. She would save Villanelle’s heart for last. 

_ “That is so fucking good.”  _ She cursed a lot when she was being fucked but softened around the edges when they were making love. Eve knows her, knows all about her. Sometimes she slipped into russian, often into french. Eve had learned a few key phrases in both languages, like  _ so good,  _ and  _ oh god yes,  _ or, a personal favorite,  _ please fuck me harder.  _ It amazed Eve, sometimes, how Villanelle could be reduced to a whimpering mess with a touch.  _ Her  _ touch. 

Eve gripped both of her thighs as she licked a path from her asshole all the way to her clit and back again, over and over again, the easy rhythm driving Villanelle mad. 

“Oh, you are really good at that.” Villanelle shivered, and her thighs shook. When Eve was sated with the unravelling of Villanelle, she flipped her over again, on her back. Legs spread, fingers finding her clit. “Are you going to make me come or must I do it myself?”

That cocky grin evaporated from her face when Eve wrapped tentative fingers around her neck. It was a loose enough grip, just barely  _ there  _ enough to have Villanelle’s breath hitching, her face turning a bright shade of red. She opened her mouth. Closed it again.

Eve squeezed a bit harder. “Keep going.” 

Villanelle’s hands faltered just a little, the tiniest of movements. Eve’s own hands shook; she had never done anything like this before, nothing that made her feel as in control or as powerful. 

Villanelle began to finger herself, quick, easy flicks of the wrist. She was looking right at Eve, eyes wide, mouth gaping open. There was something in her eyes- pride and lust, maybe? An undercurrent of fear that excited her. She crossed her eyes and Eve eased up a bit, unaware of Villanelle’s limits, though if she were to guess it would be easier to assume they were very few and far between.

Eve bent down and kissed her deeply, swallowed her small gasps and moans, one hand around her neck, the other wandering, pinching her nipples, slipping one finger inside alongside hers. Villanelle was close, had been close for a while now, if only Eve had let her come. But Eve liked this power she had over Villanelle and was reluctant to give it up but-

“ _ Eve. _ ” Villanelle was whining, a spoiled brat denied the one thing she wanted. Her voice was raspy and low and her eyes kept crossing. There was a fine line of drool down her cheek. 

Eve replaced Villanelle’s fingers with hers, Villanelle so fucking  _ tight _ and squeezing so damn hard when she finally came, her back arching so violently off the floor that Eve worried she might snap in two. Eve fucked her through it, following the rhythm Villanelle set with the roll of her hips until she was still, panting hard and flat on her back. 

“Oh shit.”

Eve moved between her legs just to taste her when her cunt was so sloppy post-fucking, and Villanelle was so sensitive she squealed and gasped every time Eve touched her. She thought Villanelle had had a point; if Eve could kill her like this, mouth and tongue and fingers working her to the brink, that's how she would choose to do it, too. 


End file.
